They cobbled a hob-knob boot on the throats of the thoroughly pathetic Eagles.

They probably booted Andy Reid out of a gig.

Military combat boots dominated the Veteran’s Day soldiered crowd.

And at the conclusion, it seemed the Cowboys had more quality boots on the ground.

Cowboy jackboots 38. Eagles fairy boots 23.

Neither team should gloat.

Even as Czar Jerry’s wall of arrogance and bluster held court after the victory, even he knew this was a complicated mix of accomplishment and more dreadful mistakes.

And oh, by the way, Czar Jerry was sporting a nice pair of alligator cowboy boots in this foreign port in the northeast. A sharp contrast to his usual Brooks Brothers costumed footwear.

But as for the play on the field, wader-boots were required. It was knee deep in a quagmire of doo-doo. Nineteen penalties. A game combination of 6-23 on third down conversions. Not very appealing to the eyes. Especially when you sat in a vantage perch in the press box. But when all was said and done, the Former Dallas Cowboys leave with a win. They reside at a mediocre 4-5 with the brutally bad Browns coming to town Sunday. Suddenly this soiled season seems salvageable.

Take your pick on the turning point. Dez’s carnival barking circus TD catch to end the third quarter. Dwayne Harris’ 78 yard gallop to the end zone on a sensational punt return. Or Brandon Carr’s timely 47 yard jaunting interception pick six. But for my dough the play of the game, and most likely saving grace of the season was Tony Romo’s ridiculous evading and escape escapade in the third quarter on a crucial third and five. Working from his own 39, Romo found Miles Austin for 25 yards to keep the drive alive. But it was his magical method of eluding enemy combatants that made the play. Looking doomed three times, he displayed the patience of a juggler, weaving and working his way in the crowded pocket. Three plays later is when Dez (still Do Expect Zilch) made his eye-popping ad hoc catch to knot the game at 17 apiece. Make a mental note of that play. Time ran out on the hour of dread. Suddenly there is light. And hope.

Don’t worry about their offensive play that was about as sharp as mashed potatoes. Or the fact that dog-killing Mike Vick exited early on. Forget the fact they were thwarting a hostile environment honeycombed with idiotic and bizarre people. Even though it was a against a team trapped in a cage of deeply flawed and unconvincing effort, the cloak and dagger of darkness and impending doom was swatted away. Gone was the endless cycle of retreat, replaced by the pageantry of a journey ended well.

Not even a vanilla, pre-season game plan by head coach Jason could derail the Former Dallas Cowboys frontier of chukka boots. What was needed succeeded. Hard eyed and heavy handedness reigned supreme. The team chose a startling idea of reason and purpose. A dire showdown of their demise is temporarily shelved.

And as I wandered the joyful and loud locker room, I was summoned to the training room. Seems Brandon Carr wanted a word with me. What the hell was this about? Did he want to boast about his interception return? Or simply discuss his Thursday show on RAGE? I met him at the door. He then proceeded to ask me about my boots. Were they ostrich? (yes). How much did they cost? (as if he and his $50 million contract required price tag asking). Where could he get a pair? Boots were on his mind.

The gauzy veil of failure and juxtaposition of jarring news was left at the kids table. Welcome to the grown-ups counter.